[Carl Copeland]

In a letter to his brother, the 21-year-old Pushkin said this elegy was written at night on shipboard as he sailed from Feodosia to Gurzuf along the Black Sea coast of the Crimea at the start of his southern exile. It opens Pushkin’s romantic, Byronic period and quotes “Childe Harold’s Good Night”: “With thee my bark, I’ll swiftly go / Athwart the foaming brine; / Nor care what land thou bear’st me to, / So not again to mine.”

This is an old translation, and I originally followed Pushkin’s line lengths exactly—unpredictably alternating between hexameter (24 lines), tetrameter (11) and pentameter (5)—but have now shortened about half the hexameter lines to eliminate filler. Further cuts will be harder, but let me know if you think they’re needed.


          The orb of day has spent its luster,
     and evening mist has settled on the sea.
     Flap on, submissive sail, keep up your flutter,
     and tumble underneath me, sullen sea.
          I see a shoreline in the distance,
     the magic landscape of a southern clime—
the land I yearn for—and in agitation I’m
          now overwhelmed by reminiscence …
     Again I feel my eyes well up with tears;
          my heart stands still, then fills to brimming;                               10
     familiar fancy round my head is winging;
and I recall the desperate loves of former years,
and all the heart held dear and all it had to suffer,
desires and hopes that led me on so cruelly …
     Flap on, submissive sail, keep up your flutter,
     and tumble underneath me, sullen sea.
Fly on, tall ship, and at the stormy sea’s caprices,
     now carry me to some far-distant strand,
          just never to the sorry reaches
          of my own foggy native land,                                                    20
          where sparks of feeling first were fanned
          and kindled into flames of passion,
     where tender Muses slipped me smiles in passing,
          where tempests nipped the early bloom
          of my lost youth and left it withered,
     where wingèd joy betrayed me and delivered
     my frigid heart to misery and gloom.
          A seeker after new impressions,
          I fled you, my ancestral clime;
     I fled you, nursed in pleasure’s sweet caresses,                               30
     the fleeting friends of youth’s too fleeting time;
and you, the handmaids of delusory transgressions,
for whom I lovelessly once sacrificed my share
     of freedom, fame and peace, my very essence—
you’re all forgotten, you deceivers young and fair,
the secret loves that in my golden spring were precious,
you’re all forgotten … Yet there’s still no remedy
     for wounds that cut the heart too deep to utter …
     Flap on, submissive sail, keep up your flutter,
     and tumble underneath me, sullen sea …                                        40


Edits
L3: bluster > flutter
L6: landscape of a magic > magic landscape of a
L17: sea’s capricious bidding > stormy sea’s caprices
L19: shores forbidding > sorry reaches
L23: where muses slipped me secret smiles > where tender Muses slipped me smiles


Crib

The day’s luminary has gone out;
mist has fallen on the dark-blue sea.
Sound, sound, obedient sail,
undulate under me, gloomy ocean.
I see a distant shore,
magic lands of a midday (southern) earth/clime;
in agitation and longing, I strive thither,
intoxicated by reminiscence(s) ...
And I feel that tears have been born again in my eyes;
the soul/heart bubbles over and stands still;                                   10
a familiar dream is flying around me;
I recall the mad love of former years,
and all that I suffered and all that [was] dear to the heart,
the agonizing deception of desires and hopes ...
Sound, sound, obedient sail,
undulate under me, gloomy ocean.
Fly, ship, carry me to distant bounds/lands
at the awful/awe-inpiring whim of the deceptive seas,
only not to the sad shores
of my foggy motherland,                                                              20
the country where feelings first
flared into a flame of passions,
where tender muses smiled at me secretly,
where early, in storms,
my lost youth wilted,
where light-winged joy betrayed me
and consigned a cold heart to suffering.
A seeker of new impressions,
I fled you, lands of my fathers;
I fled you, nurslings of pleasures,                                                  30
momentary friends of momentary youth;
and you, handmaids of corrupt delusions,
to whom I, without love, sacrificed myself,
my peace, glory/fame, freedom and soul,
you too are forgotten by me, young deceivers,
secret girlfriends of my golden spring,
you too are forgotten by me ... But nothing has healed
the former wounds of the heart, deep wounds of love ...
Sound, sound, obedient sail,
undulate under me, gloomy ocean ...                                             40


Original

       Погасло дневное светило;
На море синее вечерний пал туман.
   Шуми, шуми, послушное ветрило,
Волнуйся подо мной, угрюмый океан.
       Я вижу берег отдаленный,
Земли полуденной волшебные края;
С волненьем и тоской туда стремлюся я,
       Воспоминаньем упоенный...
И чувствую: в очах родились слезы вновь;
       Душа кипит и замирает;
Мечта знакомая вокруг меня летает;
Я вспомнил прежних лет безумную любовь,
И всё, чем я страдал, и всё, что сердцу мило,
Желаний и надежд томительный обман...
   Шуми, шуми, послушное ветрило,
Волнуйся подо мной, угрюмый океан.
Лети, корабль, неси меня к пределам дальным
По грозной прихоти обманчивых морей,
       Но только не к брегам печальным
       Туманной родины моей,
       Страны, где пламенем страстей
       Впервые чувства разгарались,
Где музы нежные мне тайно улыбались,
       Где рано в бурях отцвела
       Моя потерянная младость,
Где легкокрылая мне изменила радость
И сердце хладное страданью предала.
       Искатель новых впечатлений,
   Я вас бежал, отечески края;
   Я вас бежал, питомцы наслаждений,
Минутной младости минутные друзья;
И вы, наперсницы порочных заблуждений,
Которым без любви я жертвовал собой,
Покоем, славою, свободой и душой,
И вы забыты мной, изменницы младые,
Подруги тайные моей весны златыя,
И вы забыты мной... Но прежних сердца ран,
Глубоких ран любви, ничто не излечило...
   Шуми, шуми, послушное ветрило,
Волнуйся подо мной, угрюмый океан...

[Andrew Frisardi]

Good to see some Pushkin here. I would have commented sooner but I’ve been traveling, away from the computer.

Just reading this through without looking at the crib, the first and second time reading it, I think it’s impressive work. The language and metrical shaping have a period feel, but not too-too and the romantic patina fits this piece.

Reading it against the prose crib, I’ll note a few things that stood out for me:

line 1: Why the Miltonic “orb” and not the simpler “light”?

line 3: How is “Sound, sound, obedient sail” translating to “Flap on, submissive sail, keep up your bluster”? I’m not getting the connection, and “keep up your bluster” seems to contradict the image of its being submissive or obedient.

(The same question applies to lines 15 and 39.)

line 6: Should “magic” modify “landscape” instead of “clime,” as it does (apparently) in the original?

line 12: Is “desperate love” the same as “mad love”? They can have similar meanings but “desperate” evokes an image of despair or melancholy, while “mad” is more passionate and energetic.

line 13: Would “all I had to suffer” keep the original’s sense better?

line 19: The syntactical inversion here doesn’t work, I don’t think: “just never to the shores forbidding”—I think I’m understanding correctly that you mean “forbidding” as a modifier for “shores,” though it could also be “forbidding / of” the native land in the next line.

I’m also not getting how “forbidding” works as a translation for “sad” in that line.

line 27: “misery” and “gloom”: one of these is conspicuous filler, especially for the simple “sad.”


I enjoyed this a lot, Carl.


Andrew

[Carl Copeland]

Thanks, Andrew! I actually did post one Pushkin poem before the last June Prune, and I’ll have to mail it to you privately because, very unusually for Pushkin, it’s in terza rima.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 1: Why the Miltonic “orb” and not the simpler “light”?

“Light” is too simple. The Russian word is “svetilo,” which contains the word light, “svet,” but refers to heavenly bodies in a poetic way. It has a power and majesty.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 3: How is “Sound, sound, obedient sail” translating to “Flap on, submissive sail, keep up your bluster”? I’m not getting the connection, and “keep up your bluster” seems to contradict the image of its being submissive or obedient.

You’re right about “bluster” contradicting “submissive,” and I’ve changed it to “flutter.” I must have thought about that, but let it pass for the perfect rhyme, and now I’m so used to it that I don’t see what I’m reading any more. The rest of the line is another example of that. I couldn’t even figure out your problem at first, but yes, you’re right: I’ve changed an auditory image to a more visual one. The Russian verb literally means “make noise,” but it seems to me that English poets are more likely to use specific sound words, like “rustle,” “roar,” “murmur,” etc. I decided that “flap” and “flutter” had enough implied sound in them to do the job. Do you disagree?

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 6: Should “magic” modify “landscape” instead of “clime,” as it does (apparently) in the original?

Perhaps it should, though I don’t see a huge difference. At the moment, I don’t care for the rhythm, but it’s probably just a matter of getting used to it, so I’ll try it out.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 12: Is “desperate love” the same as “mad love”? They can have similar meanings but “desperate” evokes an image of despair or melancholy, while “mad” is more passionate and energetic.

Yeah, “desperate” is an interpretation and could be off, but I took it to mean that his loves were mad because they were hopeless, maybe couldn’t even be spoken—women who were taken or above his station.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 13: Would “all I had to suffer” keep the original’s sense better?

I like maintaining the personification of “heart” here, but your version would be a little closer to the original. I’ll think about it.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 19: The syntactical inversion here doesn’t work, I don’t think: “just never to the shores forbidding”—I think I’m understanding correctly that you mean “forbidding” as a modifier for “shores,” though it could also be “forbidding / of” the native land in the next line. I’m also not getting how “forbidding” works as a translation for “sad” in that line.

If you only “think” you’re understanding correctly, this line is a problem, and I’ve tried a new wording that has the advantage of letting me sneak back in a word I left out of L17: it’s “awful/awe-inspiring” in the crib, but is closely related to the word for “thunderstorm” (and, incidentally, is the word translated as “terrible” in “Ivan the Terrible”). See what you think.

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

line 27: “misery” and “gloom”: one of these is conspicuous filler, especially for the simple “sad.”

The original here isn’t “sad,” but “suffering.” “Gloom” is indeed filler, but I need it for the rhyme and don’t see a way out at the moment.

Thanks so much, Andrew. It’s so important to get a second set of eyes on these things—and in your case, very skilled eyes.

[Andrew Frisardi]

I like the changes, Carl. I especially like the sounds in “stormy sea’s caprices,” and “sorry reaches” is a nice solution. Line 19 is crystal-clear now.

Thanks for the explanation of “orb” in line 1. I love details like that in the work of translation.

For line 3, I get what you’re saying about specific sound words, but I don’t think it’s true that anglophone poets wouldn’t use “noise.” I prefer “Make noise” to “Flap on” because the phrase is noisier and bolder, more evocative (for me anyway) of the physical presence of the sail.

I’m happy with “magic” before “landscape,” in part because two modifiers before “clime” felt piled-on.

For the conspicuous redundancy in “misery and gloom” in line 27, and since you are playing up the vegetation-seasonal metaphor (with “bloom” and “withered”), would something like “my heart to wintry frigidness and gloom” work?

And yes, Pushkin in terza rima would be fun. Send it along!

Andrew

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

I prefer “Make noise” to “Flap on” because the phrase is noisier and bolder, more evocative (for me anyway) of the physical presence of the sail.

“Make noise” is too unlovely to my ear. I suppose it could be “Sound on” or “Sound, sound,” but I still think the most natural word to describe the sound as well as motion of a blowing sail is “flap.”

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

For the conspicuous redundancy in “misery and gloom” in line 27, and since you are playing up the vegetation-seasonal metaphor (with “bloom” and “withered”), would something like “my heart to wintry frigidness and gloom” work?

That’s certainly a pretty alternative, and I’ll make a note of it for possible future use. Thanks!

One more question for you. What do you think about changing L23 to:

where tender muses slipped me smiles in passing,

“Tender” is there in the original. I don’t think it was a great loss, but “slipped”—a recent addition—would seem to cover “secret,” so I’m thinking I should restore “tender.”

Originally Posted by Andrew Frisardi

And yes, Pushkin in terza rima would be fun. Send it along!

Will do, but I’ll have to reconstitute the crib, which I didn’t save.

[Andrew Frisardi]

Originally Posted by Carl Copeland

One more question for you. What do you think about changing L23 to:

where tender muses slipped me smiles in passing,

“Tender” is there in the original. I don’t think it was a great loss, but “slipped”—a recent addition—would seem to cover “secret,” so I’m thinking I should restore “tender.”

I had thought the same thing earlier but forgot to mention it. So yes, I agree that's a good tweak to make.

[Carl Copeland]

Done. You’ve been a great help, Andrew.

[David Callin]

Is this one done, Carl? I expect it is, with Andrew's help, but I can always add something if you're still open for business.

It's the first four lines that have caught my eye - all in a way that is similar to what Andrew experienced, I think. The first line, for instance, sounds really old-fashioned - Miltonic, as Andrew calls it - and also quite awkward, so that I almost wonder whether "lost its luster" (although quite a hackneyed phrase) wouldn't be better. It's the idea of spending luster that is bothering me - possibly wrongly.

And line 3 is clearly a tricky one. How would you feel about "Flap on, submissive sail, flap on and flutter"? If you don't like it, I can only say in its defence that it achieves the repeated verb of the original.

Line 4, on the other hand, I think is splendid.

And I don't think I had many major problems on the voyage, after that rather choppy departure.

My belated two penn'orth for you.

Cheers

David

[Carl Copeland]

Thanks, David! “Done” referred to the most recent change. The poem as a whole was done long ago, but keeps coming undone—something I’m always open to.

L1: I think I need “orb,” as I explained to Andrew, but “spent” is negotiable. It only just now occurred to me that not only is “orb” Miltonic, but also the trope of light being spent. I did consider “lost,” as well as “doused,” and my first version was “The orb of day’s withdrawn its luster.” The original is simply “has gone out,” like a lamp going out.

L3: I thought of “flap” and “flutter” as conveying the repetition of “sound, sound.” Adding another “flap” would work, I think, but I’ll need time to let that idea sink in.

I’m always open for business, David, and my regular customers are especially welcome!

[David Callin]

Looking forward to receiving my loyalty card, Carl.

(I might add that I find myself drawn more to Mandelstam than to Pushkin at the moment. As I might be more to Plath, say, than to Byron. Although I like a bit of Byron. Perhaps I just don't know enough Pushkin, although I do, somehow - almost unaccountably - own a copy of the T.J. Binyon biography.)

It also occurs to me that "flap on and flutter" is quite nicely onomatopoeic.